


Sunrise

by MercuryPilgrim



Series: For the Sky [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Can be read standalone, Cute, Introspection, M/M, SW was kind of a brat but he grew up, Set sometime post Iokath, Ven'fir is actually having THOUGHTS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryPilgrim/pseuds/MercuryPilgrim
Summary: Just before sunrise, the Wrath muses on growing up, and the things that mean the most to him.





	Sunrise

Ven'fir had always felt like he was too much for himself.

He was bold ( _arrogant_ ) assertive ( _spoiled_ ), open ( _shameless_ ), passionate ( _cruel_ ).

His personality wasn’t an act per-se, he really was all those things (and more).

It was just that his own shoes were quite a task to fill.

He had to be bigger, better, faster, _stronger._

The academy had been a whirlwind of blood, sex and adrenaline.

Everything had to be bigger and better, had to top the previous thrill.

He changed lovers like most people changed clothes, and his reputation as a good time only fuelled his fire.

He didn’t care about any of them. He wasn’t _mean_ , just… didn’t really think about them.

They didn’t care about _him_ , after all. They were just for fun, like the booze and the stims. Not really people, just _things_ that made him feel alive.

He was loud and he made his voice heard easily. Why couldn’t others do the same? If they didn’t like something, why didn’t they _say so?_

It had annoyed him for the longest time. How pathetic were they, not even to _argue?_

He had been so _short-sighted._

Had it really been ten years ago?

He felt his stomach twist as he remembered that five of those years had been spent in carbonite, unaware of the passage of time.

The thought filled him with irrational fear again, and he tightened his grip on the body pressed close to him in his bed, heavy and warm.

Malavai had moved from where he had got into bed, so that he was tucked into Ven'fir's side, nose pressed into the crook of his neck. He was resting his head on where Ven'fir's cybernetic arm socketed into his shoulder, which _couldn’t_ have been comfortable, but the soldier didn’t seem to notice.

The silver at his temples was more pronounced now, and Ven'fir thought it made him look distinguished. He had more scars too, something that made Ven'fir's heart ache. He hadn’t been there to tend to the wounds they had been.

He knew it wasn’t his _fault,_ but he still wished things could have been different. Malavai had _suffered_ for him, and he had been unconscious in a gallery, a grotesque trophy.

He held him close, twisting his neck so he could press a grazing kiss to Malavai's temple.

The soldier didn’t react at all, and it made the Sith smile. He still slept the same at least, dead to the world and utterly immovable.

It made it so much worse, he sighed as his thoughts dragged him back to darker topics, because the knowledge that _he_ had hurt Malavai would never _ever_ go away. His hurts hadn’t left visible scars. He hadn’t even been the _first._

It didn’t matter that Malavai had forgiven him.

 _He_ knew what he had done.

He would spend a lifetime making up for that mistake, but it was a burden he would gladly bare.

The idea of _lifetime_ suddenly held much more meaning than it had when he was twenty. Now he had more scars, silver hairs sneaking in, too many titles to name and one less organic limb than he started with.

Still, finding the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with by his thirties was nothing to cry about.

_(All those titles and the one that made his heart skip a beat was a sleepy voice murmuring ‘Ven?’ in the morning)_

He carefully moved his arm, the flesh one, and brushed his fingers over where Malavai's hand was resting on his chest. The ring, simple and still shiny, caught the faint light. He smiled, affection curling around his heart and squeezing until he almost felt short of breath.

A decade ago, he would have given a lover some gaudy thing, all expensive gems and intricate filigree. It would be what _he_ wanted that mattered, and he wouldn’t have spared a thought for the recipient. After all, _he_ liked it, so they should too.

Years of hardship, guilt and _Vette_ had tempered him, and he had picked out something simple and elegant. A band of gunmetal grey, a thin line of silver inset in the middle.

No gems. No detail work. Nothing flashy. It hadn’t even been in the most expensive section of the jeweller’s catalogue. It had ended up being a custom piece because of the metal, but Ven'fir didn’t even notice the price.

He liked this better. It felt like the ring was Malavai's, rather than something of his Malavai was wearing for him.

He tangled his fingers with the other mans, feeling warm metal and calloused palms.

He would fall asleep eventually, lulled by the hum if the air conditioning unit and his lovers’ deep breathing. He hated total silence, and it was one of the reasons that he had refused Lana's offer of relocating his quarters. The was a constant low drone of activity passing by, people talking as they worked the night shift, droids pottering around or the far-off rumble of a shuttle flying overhead.

He loved knowing that, even if he was asleep, there were _people_ around. Lives were being led, going on without him and that he wasn’t alone.

He sighed, giving the soldier in his bed a little squeeze to remind himself that he was still there.

Malavai had come back to him.

A little bitter, and more battered than when Ven'fir had kissed his cheek and told him with a grin that he would be back in a few hours.

Then, five years.

For him, carbonite.

For Malavai, crushing grief, fruitless searching, an ambush, torture, prison and a leash.

The ambush may have left its scars (he was still self conscious about the ones on his face, some threaded with subtle, military grade cybernetics), but Ven'fir suspected that the grief was what really did the damage.

Vette had told him as she'd cried in his arms when they finally had their first moment to themselves, how the Captain had held it together long enough to get them out and away. The had been hit, shot down and almost done for when an Imperial ship had swooped in and rescued them, picking them up and abandoning the grounded Fury. The ship was on its way to some distant planet, where the escape pods had made planetfall hours earlier.

It would have been a grand image of co-operation had the stakes not been so high, with Imperial and Republic treating wounded and trying to make sense of their losses together.

Haggard and injured, Malavai had dragged himself to the nearest Imperial officer with a data pad who was checking the lists of KIA and MIA. The poor woman had been swamped with people asking about comrades and loved ones, the Imperials having taken the brunt of the losses.

Vette recounted how the Captain had headed for the Republic counterpart and given Ven'fir's name.

The man had refused him, until Vette had interceded on Malavai's behalf. The Captain was barely staying upright, but he waited as the man flicked through the lists.

Confirmed MIA.

Vette had sobbed as she told him how the Captain had just _stopped._ Something had been keeping him going, through the smoke and the pain and the _dread._

Ven'fir held on tighter, something awful coiling in his gut.

Vette didn’t elaborate on what she meant, but he could imagine.

Malavai was a tough bastard, he thought with fondness, and he didn’t want to imagine what must have happened for Vette to look so _sad._

He didn’t want to think about that anymore.

He would wake up with the sun in a few hours and hear Malavai in the ‘fresher, already up. He would lay back and listen to the water and the sound of Malavai pottering around, before his lover would open the door in a cloud of steam because he always took showers that were so hot the water made his skin pink. Humans were so cute.

He would see Ven'fir was awake and smile for him, towel around his waist and wet hair pushed back from his face, stubble trimmed and beads of water on his shoulders.

He would come over to kiss him good morning, quick and brief. Ven'fir would get grabby and try and persuade him that they had enough time for a quickie before they were due in the morning briefing.

If he was lucky, Malavai would be in the mood, and agree with much complaining about having just showered, a glint in his eye that said he didn’t really mind.

Then another long day would begin, but they could have the evening to themselves.

He had planned to take Malavai to the cantina for a drink and the special before retiring under the pretence of a holo-movie that they wouldn’t finish before they got their hands on each other.

Dark thoughts evaporating like vapour in the sun, Ven'fir shifted to press closer to his lover.

His _other half._

Some would say his _better_ half. The him of a decade ago would have been insulted. He didn’t think he liked that person anymore. Malavai certainly hadn’t. That was fine, though. It was in the past. All the hurts, all the guilt and the _bullshit_ , it was all fuel for the forge that shaped him into who he was today.

He curled against the warm, solid body in his bed who was oblivious to his rambling inner thoughts. He smiled, affection and thankfulness blooming like gentle flames in his stomach. Ten long years.

He thought they fit each other just fine, now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this. I guess I just decided I fancied a slice of older-Ven thinking about how far he has come and how growing the fuck up and getting your shit together can only be a good thing.
> 
> It was written on my phone, in about a hour. So if it's a bit shite, you know why.


End file.
